Manual Labor
by SixGoldenCoins
Summary: Hans serves out his punishment for his actions in Arendelle. Unfortunately for him, it's a far worse sentence than he ever could have expected. Takes place during Frozen Fever. One-shot.


"Lunchtime, you fucking fairy."

Hans looked away from his work and towards the locked gate, seeing the meal being pushed through the only opening.

"For the last time, stop calling me that! I am a prince of the Southern Isles, damn it!"

The guard belched out a laugh, his round stomach shaking with amusement. "You're nothing more than my prisoner now _._ I can call you anything I want, fairyboy."

"This is outrageous! _If I don't start seeing some respect from you, I'll_ -"

"You'll what, you little poof?"

Hans straightened himself up as best as he could, but the work he had been doing since the early morning had put quite the strain on his back.

"I'll tell my brother."

The guard pretended to be frightened.

" _Ooooh, I'm shaking in my boots_."

"I mean it! I'm going to-"

"You're not going to do anything because you're never leaving this place. Your brother is the one who put you here, and here is where you'll stay! You'll be shoveling horse shit until your bones crack, and then you'll shovel until they're dust, got it?"

Hans racked his brain for a comeback, but he couldn't think of one. The guard smiled.

"Don't know why your brother even bothered with you, he's kept you at this for almost a year now. But maybe he just likes watching you slowly work yourself to death, I know _I_ do."

The prince felt his temper heat up, threatening to boil over.

" _Tell my brother to get me out of here! I don't want to fucking be here anymore!_ "

"You should have thought of that before you decided to try and murder another country's royals. We can't export half of our stuff now because of you. If I were the king I wouldn't have let you off so easy. But I'm not the king, and neither are you. So eat your gruel and get back to work, before I ask him to put you in with the rest of the prisoners."

Hans tried to protest, but the reality of the situation truly hit him for the first time; he wasn't going anywhere. He took the wooden bowl and spoon off the dirty ground, knelt down in resignation, and meekly ate his simple meal.

In his first few weeks he could hardly choke down the dull-grey slop, but soon enough he had learned to suppress his gag reflex. Hans shoveled the mushy lunch into his face without much care for whether or not it landed on his shirt. Wearing the same clothes for months on end, he was already caked with so much sweat, mud, and animal feces that a little bit of extra food didn't matter in the least to him.

"Here, I'm done."

Hans pushed the bowl and spoon back through the heavy iron gate's opening.

"Good boy. Now back to work. The horses have had a lot to eat today. Unlike you."

The guard laughed to himself and sat down on the comfortable bench, just outside the walls.

"And don't try anything clever. I still got another six hours here before I'm relieved, and I'll be watching you the whole time."

"Yeah yeah, I know," Hans muttered as he picked up his shovel and resumed his usual routine of drudgery. Digging into the large mound of mud and horse droppings, he moved it, bit by bit, onto the wooden cart that stood nearby.

By now, Hans had become familiar with the shoveling motions: the dipping down and raising back up, the weight on his back, even the feel of the shovel's wooden handle against his gloved hands. It had nearly become an extension of his own body after his continuous, backbreaking usage of it. In a way, it was the only friend he had left, greeting him at the start of each day, helping him with his daily tasks and seeing him off at night.

None of his brothers were ever his friend, and the guards certainly weren't either. Not even the horses would go near him, instead snorting at him in anger, kicking their hooves in the air.

A giant snowball hurtled out of the sky and into the fenced-in yard, and scored a direct hit on the prince. It smashed into him and pushed him directly into the cart's pile of filth, covering him in even more brown sludge. The horses in the nearby stalls turned, and upon seeing Hans' predicament, mirthfully whinnied. They stood back on their hind legs, laughing in their own way at Hans' situation.

With great effort, Hans wrenched himself free of the pile of excrement, and the snowball that held him there. He looked at the white powder, then to the sky.

Winter was over. There was no way there could have been any snow left. There was only one explanation.

Hans looked up to the sky, fighting back tears.

"L-leave me alone!" he shouted to the empty air, hoping that the queen of Arendelle could hear him. " _Please_..."

Hans suddenly felt his stomach turn. "Not again..."

The field's ubiquitous smell was the one thing that he knew he would never get used to. He bent over and felt the vomit rush out of his throat, his own fluids mixed with the gross porridge he had just ate.

Hans knelt on the ground, retching for the next minute. When he felt his insides had settled enough, he unsteadily rose to his feet. As he did so, he thought he saw, for a split second, a red discoloration amongst the brown muck. He picked at the ground with his shovel, but found nothing.

Had he turned around, he would have seen something else moving around in the dirt, but it slipped by unnoticed.

* * *

The prince tossed and turned in his cot, trying to force his body to sleep. The constant buzzing of the mosquitoes didn't help, nor did their endless thirst for his blood. Awakened from their winter slumber by the spring weather, the insects swarmed around Hans, encouraged by their damp, marshy surroundings.

"Fuck it..."

Hans opened his eyes, sat up and slapped at his face and arms.

" _Bbbbrrrzzzzzz_."

He slapped at his ear when he heard one of the pests buzz near it, then stood up and jogged ten or so feet away from his cot, allowing himself some temporary relief from the merciless bugs.

He was annoyed, but he would have had to sneak out of bed anyway for his usual routine.

Hans looked to the far gate, a bit of a lantern's glow shining through from the other side. He stole towards the light and peeked through the opening.

His heart pumped with excitement when he saw the one thing he had been waiting for months on end to occur: the night guard, fast asleep, quietly snoring.

This was his chance.

Hans stole towards the far back of the smelly field, taking his shovel with him. He peered up at the brick wall which had helped fence him in for the past few months, and the sharp spikes meant to keep anyone from escaping.

With the help of the shovel, seven spikes were quietly knocked from their holds. Hans did a running jump and gripped the edge of the wall, and struggled over the opening he had created.

The prince landed nimbly on his feet and silently crept along the edge of the wall, peering around the first corner. When the coast was clear, he continued on towards the outside of the front gate, and saw the guard still sleeping.

 _Thwack_.

The man never knew what hit him. He collapsed under the blow of Hans' shovel.

"Never sleep on the job, sucker."

Whether the guard was now dead or simply unconscious, Hans didn't care. He just wanted to get as far away from there was possible. He sprinted away with a vigour he had not felt in a very long time.

 _No more backbreaking labor. No more disgusting food. No more flies. No more horses. No more animal shit. No more annoying guards. No more bruised and injured muscles. No more uncomfortable bed._

Hans' joyful thoughts were interrupted by the barking of dogs. He ran even faster, trying to pinpoint exactly which direction they were coming from.

"Should have expected they'd have dogs... _stupid_..."

A sizable mastiff charged directly towards him. With only seconds to react, Hans brought the shovel up and smacked the dog across the face as hard as he could. The canine squealed as its jaw broke and it fell to the ground.

Hans continued onward, leaving the whimpering animal behind. But he could still hear the cries of other dogs in pursuit.

" _AAAGHH!_ "

The prince tripped and fell when he felt something pierce his left leg, stopping him dead in his tracks. The remaining three dogs caught up to him and began to furiously chomp on his legs, snarling and biting.

"All right, that's enough! Heel! _Heel_!"

Hans felt the dogs' jaws lift mercifully off of him. They went back to stand by their owner, but they still growled at him.

Hans looked up at the face of the guard, the same one which he had to look at every day.

"I knew this would happen at some point, but I never thought you would go about it so stupidly," the guard said. "Maybe you can hide in the dark, but there isn't any hiding that stench of yours, fairyboy. You fucking _reek_. My pets could smell you a mile away. Hell, _I_ could smell you a mile away."

Hans' bit his lip, trying not to cry in front of his captor and appear even weaker. But his injuries were so painful.

"I need help...please. I'm bleeding..."

"Yeah, thanks for telling me that. I would have never guessed it."

The guard, clearly enjoying himself, peered down at Hans with a faint expression of amusement.

"Looks like I'm going to have to take you to the king himself. But ooh boy, he's _not_ going to be happy."

Hans' heart skipped a beat.

"No, please! Not my brother!"

"You should have been more appreciative of me all this time, Hans. I'm a saint compared to what your brother will do to you for this. And I think I already know what he'll have in mind for you."

* * *

Even though it was daytime, Hans' vision was completely black. His blindfold prevented him from seeing where he was being led. Bound with chains, the only thing he had to go on was the rocking motions of the wagon which he lay in and the _clip-clop_ of the horse's hooves against the ground. Hans couldn't even ask where the guard was taking him because of the gag in his mouth; he had already been in this state for over an hour.

Just as Hans felt like it would go on forever, he felt the carriage stop and heard the guard dismount. Two hands pushed him off the carriage, and Hans landed hard on the ground. He yelped in pain.

"Don't go wimping out on me just yet, poof," said the guard. He grasped the end of one of Hans' chains and started dragging him along behind him and up a hill.

Hans heard the jingling of keys, the turning of a lock, and the creaking of an opening door. The guard dragged him a small distance further, and then, he stopped.

"Welcome to your new home."

The blindfold and gag were pulled from Hans' face, and he found himself staring into an overcast sky.

The guard turning a key in the lock which had secured the chains to his prisoner, gathered them up, and turned to leave. "Be seeing you, poof."

He shut the heavy gate behind him, and the lock _clicked_.

Hans tried his best to stand up, but the wounds on his legs, only recently stitched up, made it an extremely difficult affair. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and took a look at his new surroundings.

As far as the theme or décor was concerned, it was nearly identical to the stables he had been in just the night before. Only there were no actual stables. Or horses. Or even a shovel, for that matter.

The only structures that could be spoken of were the four walls, each of them at least five times as high as the ones Hans was used to. Unlike the simple spikes of their counterparts, the tops of these walls were covered with rolls of barbed wire that stretched upwards, making them seem even taller.

Hans studied the brown under his feet; it was definitely darker than the slime which he had to sort through before.

"It's almost grey...black even. What the hell is this stuff?" he muttered to himself, kicking at a bit of the dirt.

The most horrid stench invaded Hans' nostrils, the most horrid stench it had ever been his misfortune to know. It was like smelling a thousand carcasses that had been left to rot in the midday sun, only worse.

The prince's eyes bulged when he saw the very ground begin to shift. The dark, oily mixture slithered under his feet towards the center of the small field, pooling into one pulpy mass.

Hans looked on in fear as the mass morphed into some kind of twisted being, a creature whose shape was unlike anything else on Earth. Among its thick, viscous body, Hans saw hints of red and white, and caught a glimpse of human bones swirling around within it, already partially digested.

As it slowly crawled towards him, the prince ran as fast as his injured legs would carry him, all the way to the door.

"Help! Help me! There's something in here!"

Hans knew it was too late when he heard the guard outside ride away on his horse, leaving him all alone.

The prince turned around and saw that the filthy thing was getting closer. He pounded on the door in desperation.

" _SOMEONE GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!_ " he sobbed in terror.

Hans continued to slam his fists on the locked slabs of metal, even as he felt the grey sludge wrap itself around his legs. He did not stop pounding until his limbs were liquefied completely and he fell down to the unforgiving earth.

The prince opened his mouth to scream, but a wave of slime shot down his mouth, cutting off his voice forever.

* * *

 _It is indeed unfortunate to hear of your fair country's tarnished reputation. I do recall hearing from an adviser that the little incident in Arendelle affected your country's standing with them as well. Attempted regicide is no laughing matter, of course._

 _In any case, I would be glad to take the Duke off of your hands, and his two little thugs. I trust they have already been properly stripped of their ranks and titles, so any political problems that might arise should in fact be no problem at all._

 _My kingdom boasts a low rate of crime, and there is a very good reason for that. Once I have your former Duke of Weselton and his cronies complete a bit of manual labor in the stables, I can safely say they shall never cause anyone any problems, ever again._

 _Wishing you all the best,_

 _His Majesty King Klaus of the Southern Isles_


End file.
